


Lap

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville gets a visit from ‘Mrs. Claus.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lap

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: This isn’t properly British.

Neville drops the Daily Prophet when the dormitory door opens. He doesn’t know why he’s reading it anyway—it never has anything useful to say. It drops to the floor, utterly forgotten, when the door slams shut.

Draco struts into the room and out of his robes, in the raunchiest get-up Neville’s ever seen.

Fortunately, they’re on break for the holidays, and most of the other Gryffindors have left, and all of the ones in their year are gone. Eighth year is one Neville’s savouring, and he wants to enjoy Hogwarts as much as possible after last year’s disaster. Being paired with Draco in most classes (as no one else is willing to associate with a fallen ex-Death Eater) has made things, surprisingly, considerably more enjoyable. Several other relationship progressions have also stepped up Neville’s level of delight, but this definitely looks like it’s going to take the cake.

Stopping at the foot of Neville’s four-poster bed, Draco strikes a pose somewhere between a supermodel and a porn star. He puts both hands on his hips and bites his bottom lip, with his eyelids already lowered and his face already in a come-hither look. He’s wearing a slinky, form-fitting, low-cut, sleeveless, very short red dress, with white trimming around the skirt that just barely covers his nether regions. Red, velvet gloves adorn his arms, and sheer, white stockings stretch up his legs, creeping up his dress at the sides, with little bows. Neville hazily imagines what they attach to—a thin, lace belt around his waist, just over his panties? He must be wearing panties, or a thong, because boxers would show. He couldn’t be wearing nothing, because the skirt is short enough that the tip of his cock would be visible if it were loose.

Neville’s cock has already jumped to attention, hard beneath his jeans. Neville’s half-sitting, half-lying across his bed. He was just lounging about, in for a lazy day until Draco was supposed to come up for their Transfiguration homework, but apparently Christmas has come early, instead.

“I just realized that I haven’t told Santa what I want for Christmas yet,” Draco purrs, and his throaty voice goes right to Neville’s groin. Draco winks, as if there’s at all any doubt in Neville’s mind that his intentions are less than pure.

Neville mumbles numbly, “Aren’t you Santa?” ...Which in retrospect sounds like one of the stupid, clumsy things he would’ve said before the D.A. and the war. But Draco has a way of mucking up his head like that.

For once, Draco doesn’t sneer or make a snarky comment. He just shakes his head shallowly, bats his lashes, and coos, bending forward, “I’m Mrs. Claus. ...Do you want to be my husband, who’s lap I want to sit on, or my reindeer, who I’d really like to ride?”

Neville likes both those options and just numbly nods. Draco smirks and looks completely gorgeous as he climbs forward to crawl across the bed, hips swaying as he moves. He arches his body as he crawls, ass stuck up in the air, wiggling more than necessary. Neville licks his lips nervously as Draco sits up to straddle his lap. Draco’s spread legs stretch the bottom of his dress and make it ride up his thighs, revealing, as Neville suspected, bright red, lace panties. They’re small enough to look like a thong and thin enough for Neville to see everything. Draco puts his hands on Neville’s shoulders and leans in to place a chaste kiss to Neville’s cheek.

“Be my Santa?” he purrs, in a voice that Neville could never, ever refuse anything to. When he nods voicelessly, Draco smirks a little wider. Neville grabs Draco around the waist and shifts himself to sit up properly, pulling Draco tight towards him as he does it. Draco makes an adorable gasping sound at the movement and shifts again to get comfortable, rubbing his ass against the front of Neville’s tented jeans in the process. Neville makes a gruff growling sound, and Draco kisses the shell of Neville’s ear, before drawling sensually into it, “For Christmas I’d really like... your cock.” He thrusts sharply into Neville for emphasis.

Cliché or not, Neville moans loudly and can’t help but hiss, “Fuck _yes_.”

“Really?” Draco asks in a faux-innocent, sugary-high voice. He chews erotically on his bottom lip and pleads, “Will you put a little bow on it, just for me, so I can unwrap it? Or maybe dip it in chocolate, so I can lick it all clean? You don’t have to, of course. I do so like it the way it is—it’s the perfect size. All nice and big, and it feels so right when it’s inside me...” Draco stops his tirade to release a breathy, showy moan, eyelashes fluttering down as he continues to grind into Neville. It’s all Neville can do not to throw him back into the bed and ravage him, but Neville wants to ride this out.

Draco’s such a wanton thing when they’re alone. He starts trailing messy kisses, heavy on the tongue, all along Neville’s neck, and he rubs their bulges together like a dog in heat. Neville’s arm tightens around Draco’s small waist, crushing him further in. When he turns his head, Draco obediently tilts his own and opens his mouth. Neville crashes their lips together, wanting nothing more than to devour Draco whole.

Draco kisses like a god. It used to bother Neville, once upon a time, that he might not be as up to par. But their first kiss left Draco breathless, and Draco seems very happy to make out with Neville whenever possible. As much as Draco is quick to provide snarling complaints at everything from Neville’s current sweatervest to the exact length of Neville’s hair, he’s just as quick to demand (in the seclusion of abandoned hallways) that Neville keep his ‘sexy’ stubble, or show his hard-earned six-pack. Countless battles have tightened Neville’s once-average physique, and Draco seems very much to enjoy it.

Draco lets Neville dominate the kiss, and Neville tangles the hand that isn’t squeezing at Draco’s hips to fist in his platinum hair, pushing them impossibly closer. Neville explores every centimeter of Draco’s mouth, plays with his tongue, and swipes over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Draco tastes as saccharine as always, and he’s both very warm and very wet. Draco makes a pained mewling sound when Neville parts them, needing air, and mostly to get Draco out of those panties.

Although it is such a shame. Neville stares down at them adoringly—he’ll have to be careful not to rip them when he takes them off. But he needs them off, because if he doesn’t get his cock up Draco’s ass immediately, he’s going to come in his pants, and that’d be such a waste.

Draco goes back to nibbling at Neville’s ear, and he purrs, “Are you going to give me my heart’s desire?”

Neville hisses, “Unzip me,” because he doesn’t want to take his hands off Draco. His fingers have somehow slipped to Draco’s pert ass, and he starts kneading it hungrily, squeezing it and playing with the warm flesh. Draco moans in his grasp and submissively slides his hands down Neville’s chest, landing at Neville’s fly. He unzips Neville carefully and makes a keening noise as he tugs down Neville’s boxers, pulling out Neville’s thick cock.

Neville’s already rock-hard in Draco’s grasp, and Draco strokes him gently while whimpering, “Oh, thank you. I wasn’t sure if you’d let me have what I want so much, after how naughty I’ve been this year.” He rolls his panties into Neville’s hard dick as he says it, and Neville’s eyes roll back in his head.

It takes him a second to gather the coherency to growl, “It isn’t Christmas yet.” Draco arches an eyebrow, and Neville’s voice comes out utterly feral as he continues, “You’re right, you’ve been a very, very naughty boy. But if you’re a good boy for Santa tonight, I’ll stuff you full of the present you want on Christmas morning.”

Draco’s grey eyes flare at Neville’s words, clearly excited. He practically glows as he begs, “Ooh, yes, please! I’ll be very good, I promise—all I want is for you to come down my tight chimney and empty your toy sack all over me.” He wriggles the whole time he talks, tugging at Neville’s cock in erratic, uneven bursts. He’s practically bouncing up and down in Neville’s lap, ass still squished between Neville’s fingers, and his dress starts to slip down with the movement, revealing the tops of his pink nipples. It completely negates the silliness of his words. Neville balances this out by scrunching the skirt up around Draco’s waist, revealing Draco’s taut stomach and the light dusting of blond hair disappearing under his panties. The stockings are indeed attached to a lace band around his middle, tied in the front with a thin bow. Neville also realizes that the sides of the panties are tied with bows, and that makes him smile. All the easier to take off.

Now that it’s right in front of him, Neville doesn’t waste any time doing so. He kisses Draco as he does it, locking their lips together again. He tugs the ends of the bows loose, both at the same time. It’s made slightly harder by the fact that Draco’s still thrusting his hips forward, but Neville manages. He doesn’t bother removing the lace belt holding up the stockings—the untied panties are easy enough to slide off. Neville doesn’t part the kiss so much as shove Draco back, so he can have another good look. Draco whimpers at the roughness, but Neville knows that Draco loves it. Draco fists Neville the whole time, and his velvety gloves make Neville want to burst. If he weren’t so thoroughly used to long sessions with Draco, he’d never make it.

“Sit up,” Neville mumbles, as he slips his hand under Draco’s lifting bottom. He cups the bottom of the panties—palming Draco’s balls and pressing the fabric into his crack with one finger—and rubs a bit, while Draco whines and moans. Then Neville claws his fingers in it and rips the panties off in one quick motion. He tosses them over Draco’s shoulder, and Draco’s very-hard cock falls out, jutting upward and already a little wet at the tip. He’s clean shaven, like always, and pink and ready. He’s smaller than Neville, but according to Draco, most people are. Draco tilts his hips forward and holds Neville’s cock still, rutting them together. Neville groans and tries not to lose it.

“I’m ready,” Draco breathes, quietly and thinly—Neville can tell from his eyes that his own game is getting to him. “Stretched and loose, just for you.” Draco wriggles his bare bottom in Neville’s lap for emphasis, and Neville wishes his jeans weren’t still covering his thighs, so he could feel skin on skin. Draco kisses Neville’s chin lightly and begs, “Please fuck me? I want your huge dick inside me _so bad_. I stretched myself open for you with a candy cane, but it wasn’t enough—I want _you_.”

Neville’s fingers tighten at Draco’s waist, and he tries desperately not to picture Draco naked, languidly spread out on a bed, fucking himself on a candy cane. If Neville thinks about it too much, he just knows he’ll be finished, and that would be a tragic shame. He slips his hands around Draco’s soft cheeks, unable to resist squeezing on the way, and runs his fingers down Draco’s crack. When he finds Draco’s furrowed hole, it feels as small as ever, although a little moist around the edges. Neville gently presses the blunt tip of his middle finger into it, and it pistons in easily. Draco gasps at the entrance and begs, “Oh, yes, fuck me, fuck me please...”

Neville kisses Draco again, mostly just to shut him up. There’s nothing in the world as hot as Draco begging for cock, and Neville’s dick is twitching excitedly between them. He fucks Draco gently with his finger while he goes, adding a second much quicker than usual. He doesn’t let Draco break the kiss, because he knows Draco will just whine and pout, saying that he’s ready. Neville doesn’t care. He never wants to hurt Draco, no matter how much of a jerk Draco can be most of the time, and he scissors Draco gently. Draco’s tight channel is slicked up, warm and wet around his finger. Once Neville can comfortably thrust three fingers inside to the knuckle, he pulls them out, wiping them off on Draco’s ass.

Draco mewls against him at the loss, and Neville leans back against the headboard. He mutters, “Sit on Santa’s lap,” and slaps Draco’s ass for good measure.

Draco yelps but obediently lifts up and positions himself up against Neville, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, bottom hovering over Neville’s dick. He looks down for a moment, hands flying to each of Neville’s shoulders to steady himself, and then looks pleadingly back up at Neville. He pouts and mumbles, “Can you put it in? I don’t want to get lube on my gloves—it’ll stain.” He says it so innocently and childishly that it somehow makes Neville harder. Only Draco can get away with being so prissy at a time like this. But then, Draco can make anything sound like a porn show.

Because Draco’s his princess and Neville’s a knight in shining armour, Neville reaches down and lines the head of his cock up with Draco’s puckered hole. It doesn’t look at all like it’ll fit, but that’s the way it always is. Neville mutters, “Ready?” and waits for Draco to nod.

Draco does more than nod—he tucks his head into the crook of Neville’s neck, nuzzling into his skin and kissing him. Neville decides to do the work, rather than wait for Draco to, because Draco’s too big of a tease to trust with anything. Neville tightens his grin on Draco’s hips and shoves him harshly downwards.

His full weight dropping down, Draco cries out instantly, head snapping backwards and shoulders hunching. His pretty lips fall open, and his pale neck’s exposed, and Neville’s head turns to mush. He shoves Draco all the way down, right to the base, right to his balls, and his cock shoots all the way up Draco’s hot channel. Draco’s unbelievably, mind-blowing tight, like always, and his walls squeeze at Neville greedily, convulsing and vibrating around him, and it feels so _incredible_. He needs a minute just to adjust to it, so he doesn’t explode right then and there. Draco clutches desperately at Neville’s shoulders and whimpers, “S-so... big...” A swell of pride shoots through Neville’s chest, and Draco, after a second of just sitting still and quivering, moves back to kiss him.

Neville grunts, “Fuck,” and picks Draco’s hips up. Draco limply goes where’s he taken, letting Neville maneuver him around like a rag doll. He tilts his forehead against Neville’s as Neville stares down between them, where his cock is reappearing between Draco’s thighs. The lube is streaked down the shaft, making it shine, and the sheer, white stockings on either side complete the picture. Neville indulges for a few seconds longer before shoving Draco back down.

Draco gasps—a gorgeous sound—and his cock bounces against his stomach, hitting the white trim of his dress. Neville starts picking Draco up again and pulling him down rapidly, working up a steady pace, and he can feel Draco itching to accommodate the movement beneath his fingers. Draco wriggles his bottom whenever he can, and Neville lets him readjust himself, but doesn’t once stop the rhythm. Then Draco seems to find the right angle—as Neville’s cock shoves inside, Draco absolutely shrieks, mouth falling open to pant, wetly and beautifully. He looks completely lust-cloud. He’s looks _perfect_. Neville moves his hands to cup Draco’s face, tugging Draco in for a fierce, open kiss. Draco continues to bounce up and down of his own accord, fucking himself on Neville’s cock. He kisses Neville back with just as much fire. It’s so passionate that every cell in Neville’s body seems to glow, and he’s never had a better Christmas present in his life. (And it’s not even Christmas yet.)

Neville’s never even dreamt of anything better. Draco fits perfectly in his hands, tastes perfect against his lips, feels perfect around his cock. When it gets to be too much, Neville throws one arm around Draco’s waist again, holding them tight together and picking Draco up.

He throws Draco back in the mattress and towers over him, and Draco, still impaled on Neville’s cock, mewls and arches and pulls Neville down, trying wantonly to reconnect their lips. Neville’s legs force Draco’s up, and Draco bends his knees around Neville’s sides, stocking-covered ankles pressing into the small of his back. This new angle lets Neville go even deeper, and he pulls up only to slam back in a second later. He takes over and fucks Draco like an animal. Every thrust is so hard that Draco gasps, and Neville pounds him into the mattress. Draco moans, “Yes!” and, “Ooh, right there!” and, “Neville! Oh! Oh, fuck me harder! _Neviiilllle!_ ”

Hearing Draco say his name in the middle of sex is easily the most erotic thing in the world. It makes his hips piston faster, and he fucks Draco brutally, pillaging Draco’s ass with his cock and Draco’s mouth with his tongue. He ravishes Draco senseless and snakes a hand between them, long fingers curling around Draco’s dick. Immediately, Draco makes the longest, throatiest gasp yet, and begins to writhe beneath him. Neville grins and messily kisses and nips all along Draco’s cheek and the side of his jaw, leaving little marks and staking his claim, and hissing, “You’re _mine_.”

Draco breathlessly mewls, “Yours,” and then, “You’re... mine too.” His hips try to frantically jerk into Neville’s hand, but Neville’s controlling everything, and he’s fucking Draco too fast and hard for Draco be able to do anything about it. The wet slapping sounds are all over the room, dwarfed by the thundering sound of heartbeats and heavy breathing. Draco’s so hard in Neville’s hand that he knows his boyfriend’s close.

He mumbles, “Yours,” too, against the side of Draco’s face. Draco absolutely howls and lifts off the bed as he explodes in Neville’s hand. His fingers dig hard enough to bruise in Neville’s shoulders, his back curves wondrously, his thighs tense and his cock jerks and his ass spasms all around Neville’s dick, twitching everywhere and squeezing. Draco’s cum paints Neville’s hand and shirt and Draco’s pretty dress, and Neville keeps going, and Draco turns his head to kiss Neville to completion.

Neville comes undone a moment later, coming violently inside Draco, and he fucks out his last few thrusts mercilessly enough to make Draco wince each time. Draco’s flushed, his kiss-swollen lips are parted, and his grey eyes are half-lidded, and he looks utterly debauched. Neville knows Draco likes it rough and doesn’t feel any guilt. He milks out his orgasm and collapses a second later, heavy atop Draco’s rising and falling chest.

Draco keeps his legs wrapped around Neville, albeit a little looser. Neville stays inside. Draco breathes, “Best Christmas ever.” And Neville never wants to move.


End file.
